


half-light

by euborne



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M, sorry i couldnt do it as well as i should have, this is. fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 09:16:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8050726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euborne/pseuds/euborne
Summary: Youngjae acquires warmth on a sunny Sunday morning.





	half-light

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Youngjae_fic_fest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Youngjae_fic_fest) collection. 



> prompt: youngjae is a college freshman, jaebum is a successful entrepreneur, and sunday is the only day where they're able to spend time together. lazy sunday morning, cuddling in bed, youngjae helping jaebum shave his stubble, fluff fluff and more fluff

"This is it. I'm going to die." Youngjae moans, throwing himself over the table of the college canteen, in an  utterly  uncomfortable position, almost banging his head in the process. He settles on laying it on his hand  as he crosses his ankles under the table. "It's the only solution."

 

He closes his eyes in an attempt to block off Jackson's voice, booming almost right into his ear despite the fact that he's three seats away and most definitely not talking to him, his mind a whirlpool of unfinished sentences that all begin with Jaebum's name. He imagines him, the collar of his overly expensive shirt unbuttoned, because he always leaves it like that when he's in his office, his tie loose and his glasses perched dangerously low on his nose. He imagines him as he taps his pen over the piles of papers he has to look through. He imagines him; he thinks of Jaebum thinking of him, as he lets out another sigh, muffled by his sleeve. He's seen Jaebum at his work that only a handful of times; mostly when Jaebum called him and asked him if he was free and told him he missed him and told him ‘come to my office’, and a few of them he's had Jaebum pin him against the desk as Youngjae giggled, thinking how cliché all of that had been.  How happy he had been to have it.

 

"What's wrong with him?" Jinyoung asks as he sits down on Jackson's lap, a tray in his hands.

 

Youngjae doesn't even want to look at him; his tray is most certainly full of tasteless stuff like lettuce or spinach. Jinyoung's newest obsession is eating healthy, and he's been trying to trick every single poor and lost soul in his vicinity into believing that you will live longer without 'all this grease that they deep fry burger patties in.' Whatever. Youngjae likes burgers occasionally. And he likes them deep fried and greasy, thank you very much. Jinyoung can't tell him how to live his life.

 

Jackson stops mid-sentence, from where he had been animatedly explaining something to Suzy, to answer Jinyoung. "He's grumpy because his rich boyfriend is working and doesn't have enough time for heavy petting." Jackson sighs exasperatedly, as if only the mere thought of it exhausts him, before continuing, “He’s been acting as if the world has come to an end. No, scratch that. He probably thinks this is worse than the end of the world.”

 

Youngjae picks up his head long enough to stick his tongue out at Jackson, trying to tune his ears out to the chatter that blurs down to nothing but white noise and the vague clinking of plates and cups over tables. He buries his nose back into the fabric of his hoodie, sleeves swallowing his hands, as he catches the faint whiff of Jaebum’s detergent. He shakes his head, trying to chase the thoughts away.

 

"You just saw him like, what, two days ago." Jinyoung helpfully points out, waving his chopsticks in the air dismissively as if he couldn't care less about Youngjae's actual, important, problems. Youngjae suppresses the urge to scowl at both of them and instead settles for a huff. He averts his eyes because Jackson's thumb on Jinyoung's hip makes him all the more distracted and lonely.

 

"Leave the boy alone." Suzy says, slapping off Jackson's hand as he tries to reach for her sandwich, successfully warding him off. Youngjae is in awe of Suzy, somewhat. There's no other person, besides Jinyoung, that can deal with Jackson so well. "He's just in love."

 

Youngjae doesn't know if she's mocking him or not so he doesn't respond. He sighs again, almost wistfully, as he imagines the slope of Jaebum's shoulders and how his smile covers his eyes almost completely. Somewhere off-side he thinks he hears Jackson retaliate something about about ‘youngsters these days’ and how Youngjae should get used to not being joined at the hip with his boyfriend but Youngjae just tunes him out.

 

Like Jackson is one to talk.

  
  
  
  


Youngjae is a creature of habit.

 

When he had been seventeen, going through his rebellious phase as his older sister still likes to call it even when he kindly reminds her it lasted not more than half an year and he wasn't  _ that _ bad, he had wanted things. He had been young and stupid, as any other teenager, and he had this longing lodged inside his chest like the anchor of a ship that was bound to sink, a set of crags, like teeth that tore apart at his flesh. It had all eventually passed, not with a thunderstorm, but with time, like clouds scattering over, but he had once wanted empty stuff like ‘freedom’, despite not knowing what it really meant. He supposes, right now, it's merely the realization of growing up - one can't stay a child forever, so he swallows up the remnants of these aspirations as if to hold on to it a bit longer even when he knows he's already seen the last of it go, dissipating.

 

He had been young and stupid and he had sneaked out of his room and ran across the empty night streets, his arms outstretched, the loud hollering of the people he hung out with behind his back. It was different. It had been different back then, when he was younger. When he didn’t have to take care of himself but had people take care of him. His sister always seemed to know when he had left, the smell of sky and rain and darkness still on him. She always told him he was just too loud when coming back. She told him he woke her up and threatened to rat him out, because what are sisters if not to be bothersome. But there had never been a single word whispered into the ever-prying ears of his parents so he knows his sister kept his secrets safe. He sometimes wonders how many sleepless nights she had spent waiting for him to come home.

 

Youngjae is a creature of habit, he's made one out of himself, and maybe that's why he likes Jaebum - Jaebum who is a reminder, and everything Youngjae isn't, at least not just yet. Youngjae doesn't know if he wants to grow up completely, ever.

 

Jaebum is something of an adult but something of a child as well, when he drapes his arms over Youngjae from the back, upper arms resting on Youngjae’s shoulders, and he whispers how much he's missed him and how much he wishes he could stay home with him. When he changes the timbre of his voice to a higher pitch if he wants something. When he pulls Youngjae down on the couch because he's far too tired to make his way to the bedroom.

 

Youngjae had asked him once, voice stern but eyes filled with laughter, "So how old did you say you were again?" and Jaebum had only smiled while looping his belt around his waist. It was one of these smiles that Youngjae has never observed or noticed on anybody else, typically Jaebum-like, an almost wistful stretch of his lips that ends short, hiding thoughts behind it. Youngjae could almost see Jaebum’s mind, like a complex clockwork mechanism, but after all even if he were to see it Youngjae still wouldn’t be able to understand how a clock works. Jaebum has always been somewhat hard to read and it’s only with time that Youngjae has gotten better at piecing it all up.

 

"Older than you, anyway." Jaebum had said and kissed his temple in an awfully domestic manner that had warmed Youngjae from the inside out.

  
  
  


Jaebum messages him in the middle of his ‘music education’ lecture. The only thing that flashes on his display is a ‘love you’, followed by a string of emojis, each sent as a different message. It’s vague and even when Youngjae responds there isn’t even a ‘seen’ on Jaebum’s side but Youngjae flushes bright red and nothing manages to get the smile off his face for a whole day. Because, after all, even though Jaebum can barely ever say stuff like that to Youngjae’s face, he always makes him feel cared for. Always reminds him, at the most unexpected of times, that Jaebum thinks of him as much as he thinks of Jaebum.

  
  
  


The place Youngjae called home - in the most unrestricted definition of the word, muttered over when he sarcastically whispers ‘home sweet home’ before he falls to bed - is a small apartment he managed to rent somewhat close to college. It’s not uncomfortable. There’s the microwave that broke the first week after he moved in and he had to pay off his own money to fix, the bathroom that’s a bit too small for his liking, but beggars can’t be choosers so he keeps his mouth shut.

 

It has its bright sides, too, a balcony that overlooks the city, a somewhat large bedroom, as large as bedrooms of rented apartments come, a leather couch that was probably left by the previous owners. He likes it. He feels comfortable in it, for the most part. He’s made it look like himself, plants at the sunlit patches of the rooms, books strewn across the floor in the bedroom, the striped mugs he bought for himself as a housewarming gift.

 

The place Youngjae called home was always empty, talking to himself because the silence drove him mad. The place Youngjae calls home is the same small apartment, on the sixth floor, with Jaebum in it, filling every space that Youngjae couldn’t.

  
  
  
  


He startles awake, the bright blue of his laptop painting his shadow across the room. He rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand as he presses on the power button until he’s left in the dark again.

 

There are noises coming from the other room.

 

Youngjae tries to listen but he hears nothing more than the door closing nothing, more than light steps that eventually stop, as if cut off. He is not scared. He has learned not to be, has learned of the light slowly seeping from the kitchen ever since Youngjae made a second key for Jaebum only. He licks his lips, dry and parched, and blinks a few times. His legs feel like lead as he gets up, the skin under his collar too hot for comfort, boiling. He fans himself with his hand as he pushes the door open with his knee, stumbling through.

 

“Jaebum?” His voice breaks over the syllables. He clears his throat and tries again. “Jae?”

 

It’s not like Jaebum doesn’t have an apartment of his own but it’s not like he uses it either. It’s certainly better than Youngjae’s, with higher ceilings and carpets that cover his whole living room. It’s nothing exquisite, not complete luxury, but it always makes Youngjae feel like a child playing adult. Jaebum kisses the top of his head when he tells him that if he could he would rather spend every waking second watching awful rom com’s with Youngjae than be at his own house, no matter how much better it might be.

 

He finds Jaebum, head thrown back and a glass of water to his lips, as his Adam’s apple shifts under his skin. His hair is a mess, still in the work clothes he probably hasn’t changed for a day at least. The cuffs of his suit are rolled up and his forearms are naked. Youngjae’s eyes sleepily trail the vein that draws irregular lines and disappears under his palm.

 

“You’re late.” Youngjae drawls out and his voice is rough and scratches the back of his throat.

 

Jaebum lowers the now empty glass and throws a smile, his eyes playing with the dim light of the lamp.

 

“Did I wake you up?”

 

Youngjae tugs at the collar of his shirt hastily while he  stifles a yawn. "You did." A rub at his eyes and he opens them again to find Jaebum looking apologetic. "It's fine, it's fine. You tired?"

 

"Yeah. Tired. Wanna sleep." Jaebum's voice morphs into something quieter as he falls against Youngjae's chest, body going limp with exhaustion. Youngjae catches him halfway, a hand on his lower back, a hand on his right shoulder. "Had so much stuff to do. My assistant got sick and I had even  _ more _ stuff to do."

 

"We should get you to bed."

 

Saturdays are the most exhausting, Youngjae has learned, so he helps Jaebum out, changes him into a clean shirt and lays him into bed. It's not unpleasant. It's not often when Youngjae can see Jaebum like this, soft and pliant and quiet. It's not that he doesn't enjoy Jaebum's strong side, his dominance, his leadership skills. Youngjae likes that quite much as well. But he wants to see more, wants to know more, every crevice, every nick in Jaebum, every little detail. Youngjae suddenly feels overcome with an emotion he can't put a name to, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he lifts off the covers and shares warmth with Jaebum. The digital clock reads 2:50 am and he closes his eyes tiredly, Jaebum already fast asleep on his side. The warmth lulls him in and he feels the relief settle low, right under his floating ribs. He wishes this moment would stretch out just a bit more but the numbers flashing across the display have already changed. He figures he'll have all the time he wants tomorrow even if that is never enough.

  
  
  


When he comes about he takes a minute to remember where he is, memories floating absentmindedly before they focus out of the blur, one by one. He turns his head, Jaebum facing him on his side, features peacefully smoothed out. That's another thing Youngjae likes, waking up before Jaebum does. It's not for any of the cheesy reasons like counting his eyelashes, tracing his fingers on the planes of his bones. It's just the calm, the lack of anxiety, like Jaebum's body is a child's toy wrung too much and he finally has the chance to unravel. He does so in Youngjae's arms, in  _ their _ bed, in  _ their _ apartment, and Youngjae has never felt more grateful. Call him a hopeless romantic as you may, he thinks, he hopes, it's fate that brought them like this. No human force or coincidence could bring so much happiness, Youngjae knows.

 

Jaebum stirs, brows creasing as he sleepily stretches his neck back, exposing gentle flesh, before he brings his head back to his pillow with a soft sigh. His eyes flutter open and Youngjae follows the motions.

 

"Good morning, handsome." Youngjae's voice is thick and sugary, like honey, warm and rich. "How did you sleep?"

 

Jaebum smiles, a full, unrestricted smile, not dulled by the edges of nights spent awake underside his eyes. "Great."

 

The digital clock shows it’s 12pm and Youngjae smiles.

 

The space under their covers is too hot, soaking through their clothes and making Youngjae's shirt stick to his back. Though it's not uncomfortable. He tries to get up on his elbows but before he can manage Jaebum's slender fingers wrap around his wrist and pull him down again.

 

"Stay here for a while." Before he can protest, albeit Youngjae doubts he would have done so, Jaebum sneaks his arms around Youngjae's waist, pulling him close to his chest.

 

Jaebum's body cages him like the rooms of his old house, like the corridors and hallways and the fireplace that cackled in winter. Winters are always cold, no matter where you are. Everything comes alive under Jaebum's touch, his own breath something tangible, the flesh on Youngjae's bones getting warmer. Youngjae never knew there was a chill inside him until Jaebum held him. That's the thing, Youngjae already thought of Jaebum as a lover, a house, a home.

 

"Jaebum." Youngjae whispers against his neck for no other purpose than to test it out on his tongue, like a prayer, like a confession. It’s warm, so warm, so warm, so hot, burning, and it tastes sweet and Youngjae likes that.

 

"Hm." Jaebum's throat shifts under Youngjae's lips and Youngjae's chest expands, an inexplicable emotion sizzling right under his skin. He only knows he wants to laugh, he wants to cry and shout. It's always been this complicated.

 

"I missed you." His eyelids flutter closed. "I missed you a lot."

 

Jaebum's lips curl at the corners, his teeth flashing, if only for a second. "I missed you too."

 

They stay like this, Jaebum's chin atop his head, and Youngjae's hand rubbing slow circles in Jaebum's hip. The soft morning light that breaks apart through the glass of the window gently falls across Jaebum's half closed eyelids and the only thing disturbing the serenity of the morning is the shadow of the curtains fluttering in the wind. Youngjae thinks this might be perfect. He slips a leg between Jaebum's, hip against hip, and sighs contently. Jaebum is like a furnace, like a fireplace. Youngjae feels safe, so close, so close he can feel Jaebum's heart under his fingertips. He lets time pass in the quiet, Jaebum's exhales sending the loose hairs on his head skittering. 

 

"Come on." Jaebum whispers, as if to not disturb the still air. "Let's have breakfast."

 

Jaebum finds his mouth, arms still around him, and even when Youngjae closes his eyes, all he sees is brightness.

  
  


Youngjae finds him in the bathroom, shaving cream smeared all over his chin and rummaging through the cupboards. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, and a fond smile playing on his lips.

 

"Searching for something?" Youngjae asks and Jaebum's head whips in the direction of his voice.

 

"Ah, yeah. You got a spare razor?"

 

Youngjae laughs softly, bare feet padding against the cold bathroom tiles, toes involuntarily curling. "I'll do it for you."

 

He finds a razor easily enough and when he turns around Jaebum is looking at him. Youngjae feels his heart lodge inside his throat with the intensity of Jaebum's stare. Instead of saying anything he puts two hands on Jaebum's shoulders and pushes him down until he's sitting on the edge of the tub. Before Jaebum can protest he clambers onto his lap, thighs bracketing his legs on each side. Jaebum's eyes are bewildered but he doesn't say anything. Youngjae wants to giggle with the knowledge of how far they've gotten, how used to each other's habits, each other's quirks, they have become. Jaebum's eyes flutter closed as if he's confirming that he trusts Youngjae. Youngjae, too, knows that the only person he would trust with a blade so close to his face is Jaebum. He drags a long stripe down Jaebum's chin, swiping shaving cream as the blade reveals Jaebum's smooth skin and Youngjae's thumb follows the expanse of what's exposed. Jaebum skin is soft and as much as Youngjae likes Jaebum's stubble, something about it making the pits of his stomach swirl, he also likes Jaebum like this. He rinses the razor and repeats. Once he is done he places his hands over the sides of Jaebum's face and kisses him, mouth opening pliantly, as if he's always been this ready, this good. Jaebum sighs against his lips, as if he's coming home, as if he's missed it as much as Youngjae has. Jaebum lets his head drop to the curve of Youngjae's shoulder, mouth leaving ghost kisses over the side of his neck. Youngjae's hands come up and wrap around Jaebum's torso.

 

Youngjae likes Sunday mornings the most. Not only because Sunday is the only day he can spend completely in Jaebum's presence, not because both of them don't have assignments, work, calls. Youngjae likes Sunday mornings the most because they feel the closest to what warmth is. Youngjae has long learned to call it love. He tangles his fingers at the hairs on Jaebum's nape, letting himself forget about time, forget that this won't continue forever. He lets Sunday wash over him and forgets everything else.

 

"You wanna have that breakfast you offered now?" Youngjae asks.

 

Jaebum nods languidly, stifling an yawn.

 

Youngjae only laughs as he gets off his lap.

  
  
  


Jaebum drinks his coffee  short , with no sugar or milk and Youngjae drinks a cup of overly sweet tea. Jaebum is all expensive suits and grace and his chin held up high but on Sunday mornings he is the Jaebum Youngjae knows and it fills him with warmth to know that Jaebum molds to him the same way Youngjae does to him. He thinks they might not fit perfectly sometimes but they can cut out and fix the unnecessary edges. On Sundays Youngjae reminds himself how much he loves Jaebum. Youngjae scrambles him some eggs and Jaebum drinks his coffee, fingers tapping the kitchen counter, side by side to Youngjae, as his hip, his thigh, bumps Youngjae's ever so often. When it's done Jaebum places a kiss on his jaw and sits himself at the table.

 

Youngjae sits across Jaebum, left hand clutching Jaebum's right as they eat.

 

"Hey." Jaebum says, his cup clinking down the table. "I'm really happy right now."

 

_ I'm really happy with you. _

 

Youngjae's heart skips a beat and his chest feels heavy. On Sundays Jaebum reminds Youngjae that he's worth the wait.

 

Youngjae smiles and his eyes close into crescents. "I love you too."

  
  


It's Monday morning when Youngjae's head falls into Jinyoung's lap with a distraught expression on his face and Jinyoung groans. "Oh, god, no, not again."

**Author's Note:**

> self beta which means there might have been mistakes, i apologize if that's the case; i hope i could capture at least a tenth of what the prompter wanted u w u; thank you for reading


End file.
